


Lost at Sea

by behzaintfunny



Series: Land of Snow and Sorrow [1]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Blood and Gore, Falling In Love, Heavy Angst, Historical Fantasy, Language Barrier, Loss, M/M, Mythological Inaccuracy, References to Norse Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-24 22:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behzaintfunny/pseuds/behzaintfunny
Summary: "Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night." -- George R.R. MartinA tale of two Spanish sailors, gone and forgotten, as they struggle to keep alive in the most foreign of lands.





	Lost at Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunasenzanotte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/gifts).



> For Maria. I hope you have a very merry Christmas with the ones you love and that this fic of mine meets your expectations. Thank you for everything.
> 
> There will be extended notes in the end explaining everything troublesome to my best ability. Now, strap yourselves in.
> 
> Edit: The story has been altered slightly on January 29th.

_Villa wakes up with a startle as the sun welcomes itself into the room through the fully opened window. It irritates his eyelids so much to the point of petty anger he would be ashamed of later in the day. Mornings always tend to prove to be the best time of day whilist far at sea, but not here, at home. The crumbling pressure of everything that has to be done during the day irks Villa so much he wishes sleep was eternal. The morning breeze thinks otherwise, and so do dozens of people chattering underneath their shared room._

_Mornings be damned, he thinks as he huddles closer to Silva, in an attempt to hide the frown he is shamelessly adorning. He nuzzles his beard against Silva's chest, silently praying the comfort takes him away into slumber. When that unmistakably fails, he toys with the ends of Silva's hair, always the slight bit curly and pliable around his fingertips. Sunshine kisses at them, painting him a barely different colour than what they usually are, though to Villa's eye it is the single most grave difference nonetheless._

_There is an odd vulnerability around Silva when he sleeps, mind someplace far away from here while the body remains, alive and warm underneath Villa's touches._

_It is possibly the only time when Silva's eyes aren't seeking Villa's approval, Villa's affection, Villa himself. He takes odd pride in being able to witness those very moments, under the dim sunlight, when Silva is seemingly at his calmest. It soothes his own heart, too, in a sense he cannot explain nor grasp._

_"I'm awake, guaje," Silva whispers against the top of his head, "You don't need to worry about waking me."_

_Villa chuckles humourlessly, "How are you always like this? Just go back to sleep. Don't let me stop you."_

_"I don't want to," Silva admits, stubborn as ever, even in the early hours of day, "Sleep is a waste of my time. I don't want to lose my time with you on something so stupid."_

_Villa draws circles atop Silva's chest, where his heart lays buried. Silva's legs tangle with his, morphing them into something akin to one being, not two different souls. It is as though they never needed to be seperate in the first place._

_"I'm right here. I'm with you. I'm not going anywhere," Villa tells him, annunciating each sentence with a light kiss on top of his chest, "Tell me, how is that time badly spent?"_

_Silva's chest heaves when he sucks in a nervous breath. Upon consideration, Villa meets his eyes, and sees Silva holding back tears. His own heart clenches in repressed sadness. He had never meant to make Silva cry._

_"I just don't like sleeping," Silva smiles through the small sobs, "It makes me feel so out of control that it drives me insane. I could come across my worst nightmare and do nothing about it. It's terrifying."_

_Villa kisses Silva for lack of words, or anything better to soothe him. He can only speak one language eloquently when it comes to Silva, and that language is love._

_"I'm with you, Silva. I'll always be right here with you," Villa murmurs against his lips, "You're safe with me. Even in your sleep."_

_Silva smiles but it doesn't meet his eyes. Villa kisses him again for good measure before grasping him in a tight hug, the immense warmth radiating between them._

_"We should be going soon, David," Silva tells him, "Fernando is waiting for us."_

_"Torres can get fucked," Villa mutters, earning a disapproving stare from Silva, "Alright, yes. He can wait a little longer, though."_

_They don't rush. They fit comfortably together - arms capturing arms, hearts snug against each other, bare souls for the taking._

_Fernando, of course, is not overjoyed with them showing up this late._

_"This is going to be the journey of our lives, gentlemen!", he tells them, inconspicuous looking maps splattered all around the dining table dimly illuminated by a single candle._

_"Hmm, why do I not trust you, Torres?"_

_Villa scrunches his face as he speaks, hands balancing against the wooden table. Fernando wishes to punch the stupid little smile off his face but doesn't for the sake of Silva._

_"I think this is a fantastic idea!" Silva exclaims from some far away corner, sipping at his wine, "We discover someplace new, they write about us for the next dozen centuries, we get insanely rich... What could possibly go wrong?"_

_Villa shoots him a glare, "Don't say that. Don't fucking say that."_

_Fernando snaps his fingers impatiently before Villa's face, defiantly pointing towards the North Sea on the map with his free hand. He sags against the nearby armchair when it's clear that alone isn't going to cure Villa of his constant state of anger at anything Fernando proposes._

_"What's gone into you?" he asks, hiding his face in hands in mock annoyance._

_"I just--" Villa cuts himself off when he feels Silva approaching from behind, a pair of hands running up his arms._

_"Go on," he urges, ever the constant presence at the young captain's side._

_"I just don't feel like this is a good idea. I see this going so many bad ways for all of us and I don't like what I'm seeing."_

_"Relax, guaje. Don't you want us to be bleeding rich bastards that go down in history?"_

_"It's not that, Silva," Villa snaps, the anger in his eyes disappearing momentarily when he sneaks a glance at him before taking his hand in his, "And what about Sergio? Does he always let you go on with every stupid idea of yours like that?"_

_Fernando laughs, "Ramos doesn't give a flying shit about what I do as long as it pays good money. But you know that already, don't you, Villa?"_

_Only the restraint Silva has on Villa's arms stops Villa from jumping at Torres across the old table. It creaks nonetheless, notwithstanding the input with which Villa collided against it, sending an unpleasant shiver up Fernando's spine._

_"Right. No dubious money mentioned, check," Fernando mutters, pulling at the sleeves of his dress shirt, "Don't you miss what we used to be like in the old days, though, David?"_

_It clears the frown off of Villa's face, if only for a brief moment._

_"He's right, and he should say it," Silva says, mumbled words against the low of Villa's neck and into his ear, "It's a once in a lifetime opportunity. We mustn't miss it."_

_Villa sighs defeatedly, alas relaxing in Silva's constant hold._

_"You, why do I even put up with you? And you, why do I love you so much?"_

_Fernando laughs in his seat, reaching for a wine glass that isn't his and raising it triumphantly, "We've got him! Let's drink for the North fucking Sea!"_

_Silva hands Villa a bottle of wine they both chug from. His touch lingers on Villa's hand a little too long and soon they find themselves straddling the poor table, much to Fernando's dismay._

_"This will come back and bite us in the ass, you know?"_

_Silva drops to his knees unceremoniously before Villa, one eyebrow raised in feigned amusement, "Maybe so. Tonight, though, we shall live."_

_***_

The uneven beating of waves against stone served as the world's most beautiful melody. The tips of his toes, daring to stiffen in frostbite, splash the hard surface of the water. He bites down a little harshly and dips in deeper. A shiver runs up his spine but he promptly ignores it. He watches the mist embracing the lowlands in a thorough cover. When he exhales, fatigued and cold, the same thick air emerges from the cage that is his mouth. He almost misses the way it leaves an unsettling emptiness in the depths of his lungs.

Daniel's fingertips quickly begin to tingle. He knows better than to assume it is from the cold air that is slowly consuming them. He runs his hand through small rocks, each one carrying its own story over the course of centuries, needing his mind to focus on something real.

Once water starts gently splashing the back of his knees, he allows himself a small smile. Somehow, right here, somewhere more intimate, rather than the stiff skin on his calves, it feels dangerously close to a lover's touch. The water doesn't try to bite him, however likely it seems. Dangerous at first glance but given the chance, it shows him a new side of life he had never had the courage to explore before. It hits his thighs with unexpected force that warms his muscles, just like hands massaging at the flesh.

Daniel throws a few small rocks into the perfectly clear water in spite of himself. He stumbles upon a single seashell, nothing out of the ordinary but beautiful nonetheless. He gifts it to the sea without hesitation, watching it disappear with childish curiosity.  
Once it is long out of his sight, he rushes out onto land, to meet the soil that provides him with a peculiar sort of safety.

"What are you doing, Daniel?" a pitiful voice tells him from behind.

"What does it look like I'm doing, _Viktor_?" Daniel mutters, dressing hastily before cold manages to hurt him, "It's too cold now to clean thoroughly but I have some decency, you know?"

Viktor laughs, the sound warming Daniel's heart, "Say what you want. To me, it just looks like you tried to avoid spending time with me."

Daniel gasps, " _Me?_ That's insulting."

They bicker all they like, yet Daniel still ends up going with Viktor. After all, he had promised.

The night is dark, only the moon glistening from afar, clearing the path before their eyes. The constant whooshing of wind accompanied by the telltale beating of waves never truly leaves their ears.

"I don't like this, Daniel," Viktor says, so quiet he could have missed it altogether, "Simon said he would be here by now."

As a particularly hard wave splashes against the ashen shore, an uncanny shiver runs up Daniel's spine. His hands begin to shake and it is certainly not because of the cold.

Not this time.

"I don't like it either," he mumbles, biting down on his lip in reverie, "I think we should get going."

"No!" Viktor grasps Daniel's arm with unexpected force and looks him in the eye, "We're staying right here until he shows up. I'm not going anywhere otherwise."

Daniel sighs. It's never much use fighting with Viktor, always being bound to lose.

He draws circles and shapes on the cold sand instead, if only to take his mind away from the bad atmosphere looming in the air. He feels rather than sees Viktor tensing beside him, a bond that has lasted since his first days on this earth until now having its clear perks. He doesn't have to look to know.

"What is it?" he asks, tenative and gentle alongside the harsh water.

Viktor sighs and with him, his whole body, in a languid motion of weariness. He looks up into the sky in search of the moon and of calmness, but cannot find either.

"He made a promise," he whispers, broken and cold, "He kissed me goodnight and said he would see me again. Why would he have lied to me? I didn't do anything--"

"Why did it have to be a sailor, Viktor?" Daniel snaps, "I mean, a fucking sailor? Really? Since when does that scream anything but trouble?"

Viktor looks down to his feet in a failed attempt to hide a smile. He throws a careless bunch of sand at Daniel's face, missing horribly.

He laughs, albeit shallow, " _You're_ a sailor, Daniel."

Daniel's lips go in a thin line, not a single word escaping him for what seems like eternity. Viktor laughs at his side, the merry sound reverberating through the air and accross the sea. Nothing else matters so long as they have this.

He ruffles his hair, a slightly crooked smile adorning his face, because he doesn't have it in him to tell him to go to hell. Viktor deserves better than any of this.

"Won't you be a little jealous?" Viktor asks, his face conveying no emotions for Daniel to detect the irony from, "When I'm gone, who else will put up with you?"

"Shut up. You're not going anywhere."

Viktor hits him on the shoulder for good measure, " _Not on my watch_ , yes, I know. I'll miss you too, thank you very much."

They get up eventually, but only after Viktor falls asleep against Daniel's shoulder. Convinced this is the only right call, he allows Daniel to take him away.

The area is quiet save for the uneven beating of waves against the seashore. Magnificently painful sounds that tear at one's spine with unease, especially under the cover of dark sky. They walk in silence, unwilling to theorize about what happened to the man that fancied Viktor. Those are the types of conversations more suited for morning calmness alongside freshly boiled herbs, gnawing on fish and enjoying the dim sunlight.

Then, a quiet pained noise, one that could have almost been missed, accompanied by a vastly louder splash. Daniel looks at Viktor expectantly.

"Did you hear this?"

Viktor shrugs, "Of course I did. Someone has probably fallen asleep out in the cold. It's not like that's never happened to you before."

"Just by the sea?" Daniel mocks, already walking faster towards the source of the noise, Viktor following swiftly behind, "I don't think so."

They walk upon a still body, feet still soaken in the cold water, face first into the dark sand. The man's clothes are unlike anything either of them have ever seen, some odd kind of leather that is not nearly enough to provide him any warmth. There is no way this man has ever so much as felt the cold, the real cold, before tonight.

Daniel hunches down next to him, much to Viktor's dismay. He shifts the man's face so as to allow him easier breathing access.

Air leaves his own lungs, if only for a fleeting seconds. The man is more beautiful than anyone Daniel had ever laid his eyes upon, with features so distinct they are in no way from this world. Daniel is prone to believing the gods have presented him with a real life angel, the closest he'll likely ever get to reaching peace in the afterlife. Daniel finds himself absentmindedly counting the man's freckles that glisten against his skin, painting him in a story made up of singular dots. He touches his neck when he sees the man is not breathing.

"We have to take him back with us," Daniel insists, "There is no other way. He needs our help."

Viktor looks at him pointedly but doesn't utter another word. He helps him carry the shivering man to safety, until they lay him by the fireside to keep him warm. Daniel lets go of his own furs easily to cover him from any more frost.

They go to sleep in silence, neither of them fully aware of what they have brought upon themselves.

_***_

Fernando's head is throbbing with suppressed pain. He stretches out his arms and legs when he is not sure they belong to his body anymore. He doesn't open his eyes, not yet, afraid of what he is bound to see.

He cannot recall much from what happened. Only little details, painful ones, ones that cause his heart to clench with such great worry he doesn't know how to handle it.

He remembers them ashore, everything going as planned, the wind their peaceful companion. Stolen nights of sleep when he doesn't have to deal with the ship, exhausted in the best way possible, thriving off of the one thing he truly loves - the adrenaline of adventure. Villa's watchful eyes as he makes sure not a single rope it out of place at any given time. Silva at his side, always at Villa's side, reassuring and helpful.

After that, there's only Silva's screaming and the cold water gnawing at skin as he feels himself drifting away into nothingness...

"Silva..." he whispers, running weary hands over his eyes before reluctantly opening them, "Villa?!"

He is greeted by a vast light sky that doesn't seem to end, and a horizon so distant Fernando's eyes dwell with tears. He's lying on soil, unbearably cold soil that's unlike any land he has ever seen in Spain. It bites at his skin, dark, practically ashen, as though this place altogether is out of this world. He sees a wall to his right, perhaps some house, the wood soaken in dew, saline water and graced by the occasional moss.

Then, there is commotion around him. People walking up to him, dressed in grey furs and leathers, staring in curiosity and disgust alike. Fernando attempts to scurry to the wall next to him, covering himself with a single forgotten piece of fur to hide away from the cold and their glances alike. Men, women and children, looking at him as though _he_ is the one out of this world.

"What do you want from me?" he yells as they get too close to comfort, "Where am I?Who are you?!"

They speak in a language he cannot understand, full of throaty noises he is not fond of. The children laugh and point at him, the mothers attempting to calm them down. The men look at him like he's some sort of prey they are aching to feed on.

Then, a tall, blonde haired man elbows his way through the crowd, two little girls close to his side. He is accompanied by a shorter man that wears an unpleasant expression, though he might just be the only one Fernando feels pities him. The man undresses and offers one of his furs to Fernando, much to his taller compatriot's annoyance. He says something, his voice low but surprisingly gentle, all the while Fernando stares at him with wide eyes. He covers himself with the fur, only because he is shivering profoundly and the fur itself looks much warmer than his own. The man orders everyone to walk away upon further consideration with the blonde. Just like that, they are alone.

They sit together in worrisome silence. Fernando feels comfortably warm, hidden away and safer, but the presence of the man doesn't calm him down in the slightest. He wears a sad expression, his face wrinkled and full of tiny freckles, though he cannot be much older than him. He wears his hair short, much like Fernando, though it is clear this is not as common a sight as it is in Spain. The man only looks at him from time to time, struggling to find the right words even though Fernando will not be able to understand them either way.

He looks Fernando in the eye, ice cold blue eyes boring into his own, though there's a hidden gentleness in his gaze. He points a bony finger at his own chest, and Fernando follows it with his eyes.

"Daniel," he mutters.

It might be a collection of grunts or noises but it's the safest for Fernando to assume it is the man's name. Somehow, being able to connect a name to this stranger, the one person that doesn't look at him with spiteful eyes, brings an odd sort of comfort to him.

He mimics the action before hesitantly speaking, "Fernando."

Daniel hums quietly. An unwelcome anxiety overcomes Fernando once the cold becomes more bearable. He looks around properly before realizing he has no idea where he is. Somewhere at the North Sea, perhaps, but maybe not even there. They might have never made it there, for all he knows. It'd be much more helpful to ask Villa, the wisest one of the three of them, he'd know what do to--

"Do you know where Villa is?" he asks Daniel, watching as confusion settles on the man's otherwise calm face, "You must have seen him, he'd start screaming and beating up people that come his way. Silva must be with him, he always is, they're inseperable, surely you know--"

Fernando cuts himself off before Daniel has the chance to. He looks down at his lap, watching the tears as they collect on the large fur. His body shakes with little tremors as he cries, unable to stand being left all alone in this hell on Earth.

One of Daniel's fingers reaches up to brush away the tears that fall down Fernando's face. The touch feels almost familiar, almost appreciated, almost helpful. Fernando beats his hand away, decidedly looking at the neverending sky instead of him.

To his surprise, Daniel doesn't go anywhere. He stays with him until Fernando calms down, which could have been hours for all he knows as the sun reaches closer to the horizon. Fernando lies down eventually from the lack of anything better to do, covering himself in the warm furs in hopes they would eat him alive.

"Let this be a bad dream," he whispers, quiet, only to himself, "Silva, Villa, please... I don't want to die here."

He still feels Daniel's presence at his side as sleep takes him into her arms. He relives drowning all over again in his dream, watches as Silva and Villa float above him, unable to move or do anything. Tens of souls he would forever deprive of a peaceful life withering into nothingness. Though it is merely the first night of many, Fernando never truly escapes this nightmare. It replays in his head so many times it is all he can think of. This cycle will eventually drive him to madness - that is, unless he isn't already mad.

Each night, he falls asleep hoping, praying Silva and Villa find him come tomorrow.

Each morning, he is met with disappointment.

_***_

Unexpected snowflakes fall onto Fernando's face, kissing each one of his freckles to softly awaken him from slumber. He gazes at the cloudy sky through lidded eyes, giddy with almost childish excitement that does not show. His palm flies into the air, ready to collect the frosty particles like they're the single most alluring thing he has ever seen.

He can hear commotion in the distance around the spot by a moss grazed rock he claimed. A fire is crackling somewhere, reminescent of the warm evenings he was so fond of back home. Tasting eager snowflakes on his tounge, toes curling from such frost he had never imagined possible, he feels the farthest from home he ever has. It claws at his insides with the same force the unrelenting cold does.

Though the same sun rises over Spain, he imagines, it is not met by the same eyes and that alone makes all the difference. It has been weeks and nothing has changed. He still hasn't woken up from this nightmare.

Merely meters away from where Fernando discovers the questionable joys of the true North, a cod stew is simmering over the fire, much to Daniel's enjoyment. His stomach could only turn at the magnificent scent that fills the air around the site but he took no part in the making process.

Underneath his characteristic red woven cloak, Jannik rules over the portions and how they are distributed throughout the men, women and children. He, out of all of them, knows best how to satisfy every stomach even with the easiest of foods. Daniel taps his foot impatiently against the moist soil. Jannik rewards him with a sheepish smile and a shrug of the shoulder, silently beckoning him to edge closer. Daniel comes so close, indeed, that he is mere inches away from submerging his face into the slowly simmering stew. Jannik tugs at his furs that dare to fall off his shoulders before roaring with laughter.

"Away from that!" he grins, "Last time I allowed you so close to it, you had the nerve to add fucking sea purslane and tell me it would improve the taste! Like hell it did! Do you remember what happened next?"

Daniel chuckles, "How could I ever forget? I couldn't wash the stew off my clothes for weeks after you threw it on me! It was the coldest winter of my life."

Jannik toys with his favorite herb, twisting it in his fingers as though it would release a taste that otherwise would not exist. Daniel knows better than to question his methods.

"If I squint hard enough, I can still remember the blue tint of your thighs when you've had them out in the wind for so long... And don't even get me started on your cock, I'm about to have my first meal and would rather not throw up, mind you."

Daniel throws a hand around Jannik's mouth, looking around himself before erupting in laughter when he feels Jannik biting down on his hand teasingly. He sits down on the ground next to him and re-adjusts his furs, elbowing him in the side in the process.

"You bastard," Daniel mutters, a shameless smirk gracing his face despite the sheepish anger that boils inside him, "You'd think that once I start caring for your children like the uncle I am not, you'd forgive me my past embarassments but no! I seem to be mistaken."

"It's not my fault they adore you so badly," Jannik gaze follows where his daughters are playing with wooden sticks, effectively turning everybody's attention to the makeshift duel, "Kari is still struggling to fit in. She'll need an example of what a good, honest man is like."

"I'm guessing he's not me?"

The grin that breaks on Jannik's face successfully stops Daniel from willing to inflict any further physical damage on him.

"Aye, he's really not."

He watches Jannik's gaze follow his daughters, his most precious girls, as a strange feeling of envy boils up deep within him. This is the kind of belonging he silently craves, though he will never admit it aloud.

Jannik's daughters abandon their toys and waddle to where their father is beckoning them. Kari latches onto his furs, in a futile attempt to escape Daniel's gaze as overcome by shyness. The other girl, though younger much more fierce and lively than her rather calm sister, throws herself onto Daniel's neck as soon as she sees him. He laughs into her blonde curls, the most genuine laugh he has let out in weeks, before spinning her in his arms.

"I cannot say the same about Sylvi. She seems to be following you even when you're most unaware of it," Jannik tells him, the softest tint of pity hidden in his tone, once Sylvi's grip on Daniel's neck has loosened, "Protect her, will you? She's too adventurous for her own good."

"I doubt Sylvi needs my protection," Daniel toys, a crooked smile hidden away in endless blonde locks, "We shall go on great adventures together, hunting for the moon and looking for selkies."

Sylvi gazes at him with innocent excitement, her plump lower lip in a constant pout, "Daddy, did you hear? Daniel is going to show me selkies!"

Jannik smiles from where he is cradling Kari in his arms, letting her taste the stew off his little finger, "So I heard, sweetheart. Try not to let uncle Daniel disappear underwater though, we don't know how well he can swim!"

Sylvi laughs, the same heartfelt laughter he knows from Jannik so well, "He'll be okay, daddy. I'll look out for him!"

She leaves a kiss on the side of his face, open-mouthed and joyous. Daniel cannot refrain from laughing again, picking Sylvi up in his arms and bouncing her in the air, much to Kari's dismay. Tugging at her father's arm, she looks midly concerned for her sister's well-being.

"Go on, little one," Jannik coos, poking at one of Kari's full cheeks, "Daniel doesn't bite. You don't need to be afraid of him."

Kari hesitantly makes way to where Daniel's heavy boots meet the ground, unwilling to come any closer to the man underneath the furs. She starts toying with the fuzz on his boots after much encouragement from her sister, but only then.

Daniel drops his voice and leans to Jannik, however difficult with the excited girl pulling at his hair, "They should see the danger in the people that surround them and be aware of it."

Jannik sighs, "Daniel, my girls need to trust someone. They need to know that not all good is lost in the world."

As he ruffles the snowflakes in Sylvi's hair, he watches the men make a beeline for the stew. Suddenly, he feels far too inappropriate to be sitting near the fire like this, taking up the warmth with sinful greed. He sees it in their eyes, the unspoken envy, however rare a sight it is.

"Finish up, then. The men are hungry."

Jannik tilts his head and squints his eyes in reverie, "Aye, they sure are."

Daniel looks at what Jannik's eyes are fixated on, or rather who, for that matter. In the distance, through a faint layer of mist, he can see Fernando edging his hand towards the sky, as though all the answers in the world are right there, within his reach. He feels sorry for the boy then, isolated from his own kin, a shell of the man he used to be. He doesn't know him, truly will never know him for all he is. Daniel gazes at Jannik, suddenly eternally grateful that he can joke and express feelings out loud with him.

He doesn't know that Fernando watches the clouds trying to recall his friends names, one by one. They all seem to evade his mind like the wind evades through the sheer grass around him.

Fernando thinks of tan hands roaming his body but he cannot attach a face to them. He now only knows strong jawlines and stupidly soft smiles, dirty blonde hair alongside frostbitten skin. Sheep skin and fur alike, the impossible pang of saline that never escapes his tounge, vast islands that do not seem to end. He doesn't know if a snowflake runs down his face or a tear, but he cries nonetheless, inside, for the people he had forsaken. For his mother's loving touch but not the smell of her perfume, his captain's stern voice but not the colour of his eyes, his lover's physique but not the details of his face. He clutches his cold hands together, the crackle of his knuckles symbolizing the selfish anger and shame bottled inside of him.

He wonders whether he will ever have the pleasure of watching the sun bathe his homeland in warm tones again. Surrounded by words he will never understand, underneath a sky that isn't his, he attempts to cling onto his very last remnants of hope.

He hasn't got much, not anymore.

_***_

They walk along the shore, the chilly wind scratching at their faces. The night is dark, putting Daniel in an odd sense of unease. It doesn't help that Viktor keeps on striding forward, not once stopping, not a single worry in his head.

When he has his mind set on something, God knows he is going to get it no matter what. Daniel has seen it replayed a tenfold.

"Right here," Viktor says, promptly standing on a peculiar spot, "is where I hear him. I hear him calling for me."

All Daniel hears is silence. He looks at Viktor, sees the burning passion and determination in his eyes, and pities him.

"I don't believe in ghosts, Viktor," Daniel mutters, "There's nothing there."

"There has to be!" Viktor whines, pulling at the sides of Daniel's coat, "Simon loves me, and I love him. He wouldn't just leave me. Something bad had to happen."

"Why here, Viktor?" Daniel asks, impatient, a pitiful look in his eyes.

Viktor looks into the great water ahead of him, one foot smearing away at the sand, "Right here is where we first made love. This has to mean something, Daniel, I know it does! His spirit stayed around because he knew I'd try to find him."

Daniel shifts nervously, uncomfortable with where this conversation is going. He looks at Viktor but sees no sign of deceit, only pure honesty.

"You know... you look a little--"

"Mad?" Viktor finishes for him, a tired hand brushing through his blonde hair, "I know it may seem that way. Just because you don't believe in it doesn't mean it's not true, though. I know it is."

"I've never even met Simon. How should I know he's a good man?"

"You're not my mother, Daniel," Viktor sighs, exasperated, throwing a glare at him, "I love him. I trust him. I think that's a good enough guarantee."

The silence is disrupted by a distant voice, unlike anything Daniel had ever heard. Its sound is pure melody to his ear, however unwilling he is to admit it when he sees Viktor staring at him with wide-blown eyes.

"He's there, Daniel!" he gasps, a shaky hand pointing towards the sea, "He has to be! You heard him!"

Viktor's already going into the deep waters, always ahead of Daniel. Daniel grasps his arm while he still can, "That's not what a fucking human sounds like, do you hear me? We should go. We're not safe here."

Viktor shrugs away from Daniel's hold, "Fuck safety! I said it's him, so it has to be him."

"Don't!" Daniel begs, but it's too late already.

Viktor is out of his reach, as he always was. Searching for something that isn't there, just as desperate to find it as if it were.

Daniel's voice catches in his throat once he sees a pale, glistening hand arising from the depths of the sea to tangle itself in Viktor's hair. A face follows, uncannily human just torn and twisted, more reminiscent of some creature of the sea rather than a person. What makes Daniel most sick in the stomach, however, is the blue shimmer his eyes glisten with, contrasting with his otherwise dark face.

"Finally," the creature breathes next to Viktor's side, "I've waited so long for you."

Daniel's already running deep into the water as the creature's eyes find him. Its hold on Viktor tightens as they swiftly disappear underwater. The air fills with Viktor's final scream, his hand reaching up for Daniel to save him but he's not close enough to do anything. He dives after them but to no avail, the creature having already evaded with Viktor in its clutch. He escapes the sea as fast as possible once it's clear there is nothing he can do anymore, before slick hands get the chance to pull him into the dark abyss.

He rushes amidst the faint layer of mist as though the world were to collapse under his feet. Far away screams reverberate inside his head, never truly leaving, not even for a milisecond.

As a rainstorm hits, he almost has the audacity to laugh. It's commonly known that all people are controlled by some force greater than them, however bizarre the idea may seem to Daniel, yet, in this instance, he sees something in the rain. A cleansing, perhaps, something to ease the pain in his heart and his soul. Eyelashes stick to his lower lids as he trips and falls, muddy soil on the side of his face. He chuckles, the noise devoid of any faint emotion, as fresh tears start falling down his face, following the path the rain has carved for them.

When he closes his eyes, he can see Viktor's hand reaching out to grasp thick air as his body is dragged down into nothingness. He forces them open with the remnants of his awareness, holding his eyelids up with sand-covered fingertips and crying for dear life.

He thinks, how can anyone go on after this? How can _he?_

He screams it into the night but does not deserve an answer. Only eternal quiet and the eerie whooshing of wind that accompanies his most sincere anxieties through the cold night. After a restless run, he feels empty. He doesn't even make it into his bed, dropping carelessly against damp grass, hoping _-_ _praying_ _-_ it would eat him alive so that he didn't have to endure a second more of this torture.

Being alone has never felt quite like this. An empty void inside his chest that's screaming to regain what it has been deprived of.

There's only the everlasting silence and the cold. Not the one that bites his toes, but his heart. Daniel never imagined such terrible pain, not in his most terrible dreams. Maybe he didn't know life well enough. It seems like faith thinks it's about time for him to learn.

And learn, he shall.

_***_

"Did you find a selkie this time, uncle Daniel?" Sylvi tugs at the sleeve of his furcoat impatiently as they walk side by side, "It doesn't even matter if you did! I found two on the beach nearby!"

All air escapes Daniel's lungs then, profoundly stunned beyond belief. The sheer pride with which Sylvi smiles at him leaves him utterly speechless.

He asks, shallow and empty, "Are you okay, sweetheart? Did they hurt you?"

"Of course not, Danny!" she laughs, almost pitifully, "Come, I'll lead the way!"

They walk their last stride through sanity, a cold veil disabling them from ever going back. Nothing will ever be the same. Not really.

He drops to his knees when his eyes discover something that was definitely not his to see.

Not anyone's.

Alongside black sand still moist from today's storm lay two bodies in an embrace so close Daniel could have mistaken them for one. A man with hair falling into his eyes, no older than him, looking so cautiously into the other's eyes as though a single missed second would change everything in this world inbetween them.

"Run along, sweet. Go play with the flowers," Daniel whispers to Sylvi who is watching attentively with such curiosity that causes Daniel's stomach to turn, "I will join you shortly."

"Uncle Daniel..." she whispers as her hands begin to shake, "Are they okay? Do they need our help?"

"I'm afraid they cannot be helped."

Sylvi runs away, flowers falling from her hands almost as quickly as tears, from her eyes.

He can distantly see tears falling from the man's eyes, painting the other man's face in a masterpiece of salt and sorrow. He shakes his shoulders with pathetic force, all hope lost, desperately needing the man underneath him to move even ever so slightly. He touches his beard with reverence, whispering under his nose something Daniel cannot understand. The language makes him think of Fernando, though not even in his darkest dreams did Fernando ever sound this pained and utterly broken.

The man abruptly screams at the other's stoically calm face, every noise drenched in the most primitive kind of sorrow. His nails claw at the dead body underneath his own, running down his neck as though to need reassurance that he ever bled with him in the first place.

None comes.

He captures his lips in a kiss that shall never be returned, through a slick layer of tears and sweat. His fingers adorn a sickening red shade that has dried a dozen times. They drop to the ground soon after, pathetically beating weak fists against the sand as though seeking an escape from all the pain of this world. His body sags against the cold one underneath, imperfectly whole but never quite complete. Their legs tangled together, bodies seeking warmth even when the cold embrace of death has taken one of them forever. Daniel has no heart to disrupt them, praying he will forget about any of this come tomorrow like it was all just a nightmare.

When one bloodied hand finds its way into the man's dark locks, caressing as though to remember every crevice of his head, it dawns upon Daniel that he will never forget this. Not with Sylvi in his arms, not during hunting nor fishing, perhaps not even in the afterlife. All that shall ever be is the blood, rain and tears that paint the coldening corpse in a myriad of uneven fingerprints.

He finds Sylvi exactly where they had been before, toying with the first flowers that peek from underneath the snow like Daniel had instructed her to. They're yellow, perfectly unlike the sunshine he is used to, a shade almost hard to fathom.

"Uncle Daniel!" she cries, the flowers all forgotten, already making her way to latch onto his legs.

Daniel ruffles her blonde locks, the barest hint of a smile already gracing his face, "Were you good, little one? We should hurry home before your father starts to worry."

"Daddy always worries," Sylvi sighs, exaggerated and childishly genuine, before her jaw opens wide. She hurries back to where she was seconds ago, kneeling at the black stone, cradling the little flowers in her hands. Daniel shakes his head before sitting down next to her.

"What is it, sweetheart? Are these for me?"

She grins, all Jannik but smaller and much gentler, before presenting to Daniel a bundle of yellow daisies, carefully picked out to portray a wonderous spring beauty. Daniel never could pay attention to those details, only finding beauty in the most obvious things -- early sunset emerging from the cover of Earth, the steady feel of a spear in hand, a lover's skin warm underneath his palms. He had never thought a bunch of simple flowers could bring someone this much joy.

"It's a flower crown, Danny!" she exclaims, "It's just like a hat but smaller and made of flowers! Can I put it on you?"

Daniel nods, stunned, unable to articulate further. It is hardly a crown, not even a wreath, merely a dozen flowers thrown in a bunch, but just as precious. It sits funnily on Daniel's hair, a few of the petals falling off but it doesn't seem to be a problem, not when Sylvi smiles so brightly she might even start to cry.

"Are they going to be okay, Danny?"

She arranges the flowers in Daniel's hair with such caution it amazes even him. He looks at his hands, all too exposed for his liking. The pain is still too fresh.

"No, I'm afraid not," he quietly says, "Some of us cannot be saved so easily."

Sylvi frowns, throwing herself into Daniel's embrace in exhaustion, "I will find flowers for them to wear, too, and the other selkies! We will all have so much fun together..."

As he carries her home, Daniel thinks of ice cold eyes uncovering his every secret, and of glistening finns underneath the starlit sky. Viktor disappearing under the cover of sea with one final scream...

It leaves an unsettling feeling deep inside his gut. He prays it is purely instinct that makes him feel this way, not the foreshadowing of upcoming sadness he is yet to encounter.

Daniel is cold.

He feels devoid of any other feeling than the tingling down his arms and his legs alike. It's paralyzing. It reaches his bones, an unpleasant ache that cannot be mended.

He cries himself to sleep that night, rocking anxiously under the furs that cover his naked body like the day he was born. He mourns for the lovers that will never know peace as he knows it, will never again look into each other's eyes or smile in the comfort of their mutual presence.

He weeps for the set of eyes that shall never cry again and for the eyes that will cry for them forever.

He hears Fernando sobbing in the distance, cannot bring himself to pretend he doesn't. He's not shivering like Daniel is -- he's trembling. His body shakes with the force of little tremors that are much more gruesome than anything he has ever experienced before. He runs over to him before he can hear Jannik in his head saying he's stupid to care this much.

If his gentle heart is going to be the death of him, then so be it. It doesn't sound like a half bad way to go.

He shakes the particles of snow off of Fernando's shoulder in attempt to gain his attention. A pair of uncannily warm eyes meet his, a sparkle of hope in the neverending cold, and search the help in them that they have been so desperately seeking.

Daniel is sick and tired of being passive.

He extends his arm towards in the most primitive form of invitation he knows, cracking his knuckles until his hand becomes a safe space for Fernando to grasp onto. Fernando seeks the permission in his eyes before latching onto his hand for dear life, letting himself be taken away. It's the most genuine happiness he has felt in ages, however numbened by the unrelenting cold cutting at his skin.

Daniel hurries to carry every fur and sheep's skin out of his bed, where he knows Jannik wouldn't allow Fernando to set a foot in, and into the darkness. He settles them in relatively close distance to Jannik anyway, just to be on the cautious side of things. He beckons Fernando to lie under them until they look like they've swallowed him alive. He looks warmer, safer perhaps, but definitely not any calmer.

Daniel turns to walk away before Fernando lets out a pained sound, likely a word but one he cannot understand. The brokenness with which he says it makes Daniel feel like he should stay with him, if only for the night. He settles underneath the covers next to him, knowing full well this is the easiest way for the body to regain its normal temperature.

Fernando cannot stop trembling, not even underneath the many layers that should warm him up relatively fast. Daniel sees that and huddles closer, front pressing snug against Fernando's back, a lone arm wound around his body. He touches Fernando's face, the lightest caress of his fingertips, and feels him beginning to warm up. He almost edges his hand away instinctively when he feels a shadow of a droplet of water running down Fernando's cheek.

Not for one moment did Daniel stop to think what all of this must have meant for the lone, broken boy. Not until now.

He caresses his cheek with more intent than previously, in what he prays comes off as a caring manner. He doesn't deal with feelings, not much, and even if he does, he has no idea how to handle such a complex trauma, can only imagine. Fernando shivers, leaning into the warm touch, and rocks nervously as a fresh stream of tears starts dwelling against his eyes.

Daniel can almost imagine them staying the night like this, silently comforting him with feather light touches. That is, until Fernando moves with unexpected force and turns face first against Daniel's chest.

He forces Daniel's arms to wound around his torso and hold him close as he cries openly, noises muffled against his skin. Powerful tremors overcome his body as he exposes himself to Daniel more so than anyone ever has, a bare soul out in the open for Daniel to hold together in the space between his arms.

It's heartbreakingly beautiful, being so close to him, yet so far. Holding him together as he loses himself tear by tear, a symphony of broken noises filling the little space between them.

"Everything is going to be okay," Daniel whispers, having ran out of more reasonable ideas on how to comfort him, "You're okay. I'm going to take care of you now, alright? Nothing bad will happen from now on, you'll be safe with me."

It only calms him down in the slightest, his face still defiantly buried against the furs covering his chest. It does give him something to focus on, though, and so the lulling sound of Daniel's voice expresses sweet nothings until he feels Fernando calming down.

"Everything will be alright," Daniel says quietly, a touch of lips against the top of his head, "You'll find your way back home eventually. I know you will."

He doesn't know it, and nor does Fernando. The sparklet of hope that the words ignite in Daniel though feels like it's enough to let them survive through the cold night. Maybe a few more at that.

He drifts away to sleep as Fernando quietens down. He dreams of coastlines unlike any he has seen before, red cashmere and endless fields filled with fresh crops.

He wonders if the same image flashes before Fernando's eyes whenever he lets them close.

_***_

_"What are you up to?"_

_Silva muffles a laugh where he is seated, writing on a small piece of parchment in neat handwriting, "Mischief, obviously. Can't you tell?"_

_Villa hums from over in their shared bed, having only just woken up. Silva had already been doing things ever since the sun arose, always a few steps ahead of Villa in that manner._

_"Not the smartest idea to write when your hair is wet like this," Villa remarks, "Whoever's receiving this letter isn't going to be delighted."_

_Silva turns to face Villa, droplets of water splashing onto the floor, a gentle smile on his face, "Who said it was a letter, anyway?"_

_"Well, is it?"_

_Silva beckons Villa to get up and walk over to him, never too content with being seperated. Villa kisses him, tasting of sleep and weariness, hands quickly finding their way into Silva's wet hair._

_"I'm writing to my mother," Silva admits, a hand lingering where Villa's lays, "I don't want her to worry while we're gone. She deserves better."_

_"You're the sweetest, do you know that?"_

_Villa leads him over to the window by his beltloops. They kiss like there is no tomorrow, like the world starts and ends around the two of them, and them only._

_Villa whispers against his lips, "I love you."_

_Not much else has to be said, for Villa knows Silva returns the sentiment a tenfold._

_Silva laughs, the merry sound reverberating through the fresh morning air. The sunrise that peeks over the horizon reflects in his eyes like a painting, softening a smile that is so often rather cunning than innocent. Villa settles one of his hands in his hair, untangling it while it's still wet and dripping on the window sill. His other one finds the small of Silva's back, teasingly wandering further down but not quite, in a protective grip over his body._

_"Careful there. I wouldn't wish for you to fly into death's arms as quickly as you fly down onto the ground if I don't catch you."_

_Silva's arms spring free, catching air in his fists as though it bears any real purpose. He leans further back, his hair leaving droplets of water and soap on some apples an elderly woman is selling. His eyes squint when he meets the harsh rays of sunshine but it doesn't stop him from smiling. It doesn't seem likely that anything ever can._

_"That's quite alright. I know you'd always be there to catch me."_

_Villa chuckles, the meaning not lost on him. He brings Silva closer to him, closer to safety, before embracing him. Silva's hair runs water down his spine, causing shivers to travel throughout his entire body, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He kisses the top of Silva's head, looking past him and into the sunkissed clouds._

_In a city filled with liveliness and commotion, they are the only two people. The only ones that matter._

Silva wakes up with a startle, shaking with suppressed anxiety.

Just a dream. A nightmare.

The unrelenting cold waves splash at his feet, his toes curling and cracking from the primitive pain. He heaves a breath before covering his face with his hands and crying for dear life. Unabashed dirty tears drip out of his eyes as though he could never run out of them, mingling with the dried blood on his fingers.

Never before had he associated cold with the deepest shade of red, the one that pumps through our veins relentlessly until the bitter end.

Or with hunger.

He huddles closer to the body next to him, listening out for a heartbeat he will never in his life hear again.

"Villa!" he cries, hoarse and unlike any sound he has ever let out, trembling hands shaking at Villa's shoulders, "I'm right here, Villa. We'll be okay, I know we will, just don't leave me... Wake up..."

Silva cries, the powerful sobs tearing at his insides, watching the tears fall onto Villa's face in a myriad of little droplets. He brushes them all away, ashamed of himself. He cannot stand looking at Villa, each second killing him a little inside, but he cannot, will not look away.

"Please wake up," Silva tells him, feather light fingers brushing at the side of his face, "Don't leave me to die. You promised you'd never leave me."

He cries into his shoulder, trembling with cold and sorrow, overcome by eerie silence save for the sound of water. He kisses Villa with all he's got, which isn't much, breaking down mid-way as a fresh stream of tears falls down his face.

"Villa, this is not funny," Silva huddles even closer, purpling hands creeping under Villa's jacket to steal away the last warmth remaining, "Don't do this to me. You can't. Don't make promises you cannot keep!"

Villa is cold under his hands, still much warmer than Silva feels inside. The closer Silva gets, the more bearable the unreleting cold is, but he is never close enough. He cries against Villa's skin and his tears cut at his face, little streaks of pain he cannot soothe.

"I'm right here," he tells Villa, or himself, or the neverending night surrounding him, he is not sure, "I'm not going anywhere."

A dreamless sleep takes him away before another tear has a chance to fall down his face. He prays he will not wake up come morning.

He prays he never has to sleep again.

_***_

Things have changed since that night, Daniel cannot pretend they haven't. He does not see Fernando in the same light he used to, nor does he pity him out of necessity. He sees the tragedy of Fernando's journey to join him here for what it truly is, forced away from his own kin, never to rejoin them again.

Fernando has been stubbornly clinging onto life, just as the man at the seashore, only in a different manner. Daniel has no heart to break it to Fernando that he might not be entirely alone in here after all. Not yet, at least.

They have begun exploring the isles together after much perusasion from Daniel. Fernando's pure curiosity for snow may have diminished, but his sense of adventure hasn't. He is yet to see those islands as Daniel sees them, but it is apparent that their beauty does not miss him.

Daniel never took anyone to the one place he holds most dear on his isle, save for Viktor. It had always been theirs and theirs only.

Fernando doesn't know that. Nevertheless, the alluring way with which the moonlight hits the dampened rocks inside the cave is enough reason for him to have led him there.

Daniel lets his furs fall loose onto the cold stone, exposing his long, toned back to Fernando's innocently curious eyes. He stretches out his arms in a futile attempt to make them regain the strength they so very lack. He doesn't look back once before plunging feet first into the infinite water. Fernando doesn't miss the quiet gasp that escapes Daniel's lips once the overwhelming cold truly hits him. He pulls at his own furs pathetically, not knowing exactly what to do in this situation.

It had been Daniel that insisted they go here but that took away none of the worries clenched inside Fernando's heart. He taps his foot on the black stone and attempts to count the seconds as they pass.

Daniel submerges into the crystal clear waters without sparing him a glance. He comes out after a few moments looking significantly more _pure_. Fernando wonders if the tales of healing properties of water truly are true when he sees Daniel's freckles glistening, delicately kissed by droplets of water that do not dare leave his face. Only then does Daniel look at him, squinting slightly but still portraying one of the most gentle expressions Fernando has ever seen on a man's face. He motions with his thin hands that Fernando joins him.

He had been frightened by Daniel all this time until now, under faint moonlight, with hair sticking to his forehead and eyes glimmering with hope. The most childish kind of hope -- the vulnerable will not to be let down.

With one last look around, Fernando's hands unbuckle his clothing hastily. He pretends to have noticed the way the corner of Daniel's lips raises slightly in an amused smirk, instead focusing on ridding himself of the layers of clothing he insists on wearing. His attire joins Daniel's in a messy pile before he sits down, reluctantly dipping his feet into the water. It is actually significantly warmer than he had expected compared to the frost he feels against his bare bottom.

Daniel swims closer to where Fernando silently admires him, closing the distance that was already slight. He brings out one arm from underneath the cover of water and offers a hand that shivers to the tune of the wind whistling. Fernando allows himself a mere second to gaze upon the art that covers the entirety of the exposed skin and all the possible stories behind it. A myriad of dots and lines placed so specifically it is not for Fernando to understand the reasoning behind it. From fingernails to neck, a tale made of carbon ink never to be forgotten. He opens his mouth before closing it moments later, a faint blush creeping upon his cheeks. He reaches out with his own hand instead.

When they touch, it's the magic the locals so desperately sing of. He can practically feel blood pumping in Daniel's cold veins, pulsating against his trembling hand. Daniel locks eyes with his own, the weight of millions of unvoiced questions heavy between them. Fernando feels himself getting dizzy from just looking at him, as though that in itself is a magical experience.

If not that, then merely the comforting weight of Daniel's hand in his. In this moment, under the cover of night, Fernando has no doubts about that. He looks at Daniel like he has known him his whole life and longer, air catching in his lungs, painfully unable to voice his thoughts.

Daniel pulls him underneath the waterfall's creation, welcoming him in his arms like a long lost lover. Clinging onto the warmth as though it would save him from all imaginable terrors, Fernando fits right in.

Fernando looks up at the moon that is so far away from them yet right here, blurred by the heavy fog but still just as real. He feels himself slipping a hand in Daniel's hair, unaware of how much he had missed to feel another person's body against his own. The quiet pained sound that escapes Daniel's lips causes his arms to drop as he escapes his tight embrace. Daniel looks at him with utmost confusion, muttering something under his nose that Fernando is not lucky enough to understand.

Before he can say anything, he feels Daniel edging closer, as though he were a planet orbiting Fernando, his sun.

"I don't believe you want me," Fernando says despite himself, knowing full well Daniel does not understand, yet he doesn't break their gaze, "Why are you so uncertain if I really am what your heart desires?"

Daniel looks down at the body of water, blinking away the confusion he does not wish for. His hands reach Fernando's lower back and run upwards, kneading at the tired muscles as though that in itself answers his every worry.

In a way, it truly does.

Yet again, he is under the impression that Daniel is enchanting him. He's been with men before, felt their strong hands on his body, but nothing quite like this. In the intimate ambiance of the waterfall disrupting their perfect silence, where Daniel's heart doesn't skip a bit but his does, hundreds, he takes notice of a feeling he'll never want to let go of. In comfortable peace, he lets himself be taken apart piece by piece under Daniel's warm hands. They attempt to wash away the sweat and filth that adorns Fernando's back with such delicacy Fernando hadn't imagined possible. It is as though Daniel was truly afraid of Fernando breaking under his softest touches.

"Don't stop," Fernando says, eyes boring into Daniel's colder ones, "I'll be okay as long as you don't stop."

Fernando whispers those words like a plea before turning around, back snug against Daniel's front. He reaches for where Daniel's hands had fallen next to his side, gently prying them to settle on his shoulders and pressing. He squeezes Daniel's hands encouragingly as though trying to wordlessly convey a message.

When Daniel's fingers press slightly deeper into the muscles on the back of Fernando's neck, he cannot stop his head from falling back. His hair touches the surface of the water, ends floating carelessly as he feels Daniel leaning to leave a lingering kiss on his throat. His eyes close when Daniel's hands go from underneath his arms to rub against his chest. He takes notice of the heavy mist lingering above the body of water, settling in his lungs and dampening the skin on his face. He truly feels himself breaking apart underneath Daniel's loving hands and he wishes never to regain shape.

Fernando's eyes open hesitantly to study the flaws and crevices of Daniel's face. The boy truly adorns the most special features, unlike anyone Fernando had ever laid his eyes upon. He is encaptured by the way his eyelashes flutter whenever he blinks, thinking it truly inappropriate for a man of such masculine build to convey such stunning details.

Even if it is purely magic that makes him feel this way, then so be it. To Fernando, it sounds like a very rational scenario so long as this moment never stops.

One of his hands creeps to cup Daniel's cheek, forcing him to gaze at him with those alluring eyes. The very entry to his soul, just as mysterious as his whole being, and yet he has fallen prey for their cunning calling. Fernando seeks consent and approval in them before closing the remaining space between them.

The gentleness with which Daniel kisses could be comparable to the heartwarming glimmer of moonlight on the water around them. Fernando feels his knees daring to buckle underneath him and he would drown were it not for Daniel's tight grip on his waist. He would die a happy man, much merrier than the ones to discover unknown riches amidst uninhabited lands. All it took was this kiss, this silent conversation, that had fulfilled his purpose as a human being.

Of course, Fernando does not drown. Only figuratively, under Daniel's constant ministrations and the soft press of his lips.

Fernando silently thanks his God and Daniel's for placing him upon his path. In distant glimmers of the moon and stars, he sees heaven. He thinks, _this_ is heaven. As he lets Daniel's tounge take control of the kiss, he crosses the gates of heaven on Earth.

Only the faint stars and the everseeing moon accompany the waterfall in witnessing the most beautiful moment of Fernando's life.

For once, he does not feel any pain.

_***_

The sand that graces the seashore is more black than any beach Fernando has ever seen. It causes his biggest fear to peak yet again, that this bunch of islands is outside the realm of men. It certainly doesn't look like anything he has seen before, and he rather prides himself in seeing much of the world.

There's something looming in the air, present in the telltale sound of wind. His hand edges to find Daniel's, seeking reassurance that whatever it is, it will all be fine in the end. Daniel shifts away from Fernando at the first touch as though lightning jolted him, a quiet sigh escaping from deep within his lungs. They walk in unbearable silence. Only the whooshing of wind accompanies them on their journey through eternal frost.

Though, unlike in many of the fairytales Fernando had been told as a child, this journey does not seem to lead to a happy ending. In the depths of his heart, though untold, he feels it.

He knows it.

For now, so long as the moon shines, he shall not give up hope. He tells himself that so many times until he actually begins to believe it.

How hard it may be to believe in yourself when you're uncertain of practically everything surrounding you.

They come to an abrupt halt before a cliff adorned by dozens of little yellow flowers Fernando had never seen before. All scattered and torn from their roots, they only put more unease into his already anxious mind. Sensing that, Daniel puts his hands on Fernando's shoulders, two cold hands that hold him down and strengthen him on his feet. There is a spark in his eyes that Fernando cannot read, one that puts worry in his heart nonetheless.

Daniel silently seeks permission before closing the distance between them in the gentlest of kisses, one filled with reassurance Fernando does not understand. Daniel lingers a little longer than he ever did, afraid that once the unspoken connection between them breaks and they walk up the cliff, nothing will ever be the same. His hands cup Fernando's face, warm and so unlike his own that he wishes to never forget the feel of them against his skin. He lets go too soon for either of their liking, already striding forward like always in life.

Where the imperfect meadow of flowers ends, so does hope, it seems.

Fernando's heart leaps up to his throat and back down as he gulps down a sudden inhale. He feels tears running down his cheeks before he can collect his thoughts, Daniel's presence behind him acknowledged but utterly ignored. His hands find his eyes and rub for dear life because _this cannot be happening._ He jumps down onto the damp sand, bits of minuscule rocks sticking to his hands as he fails to connect his thoughts.

No matter how many times he tries to blink it away, force it away, the image does not disappear.

"...Silva?" he asks, voice trembling, impossibly unlike himself under the unrelenting fog.

A pair of incredibly familiar eyes that have never looked so foreign seek his own after a lingering pause, as though he had to reassure himself that the voice was real. They are heavy with old tears that dried a tenfold, desolate of the cheerful spark that used to constantly adorn them. Fernando reluctantly walks forward, his knees buckling underneath him when he sees dried blood alongside the relatively fresh all over Silva's hands and dripping from his mouth. He cries against the cold sand, a bawl so animalistic escaping his lips and pressing itself into the ground. He can feel the heavy weight of Silva's eyes on him, always so attentive, just as he remembers them.

When he looks up, Silva has sagged against the body underneath him in an odd kind of shame, as though Fernando's mere presence brought out all the shattered pieces of humanity buried in him. He doesn't cry audibly, only shivers as though the sea has swallowed him whole.

Fernando raises his voice, petrified and unable to stand, "What have you done, Silva?"

Silva moves but a muscle in response, all life seemingly poured out of him with ounces of blood that have painted the sand around him. Around _them._

"Silva, is this..."

Fernando does not have it in him to finish the question, his stomach already clenching in the most primitive of instincts now that the stench has hit his nose. It all escapes his body, unable to hold back anymore, and with it a strange feeling of purification. His tears pour out of his eyes like the strongest of streams, mixing with the vomit that cannot stop escaping his body. He trembles, much alike Silva, and when he looks back at him, all uncertainties evaporate.

He would have never recognized Villa now if he didn't know Silva so well.

Not under the giant moon that reflects off the streaks of blood that paint Villa's face, not ever. Only for the tight grip Silva has on his body still, on all that remained of it, after all this time. This person hardly resembles the Silva whose laughter Fernando had always been stupidly fond of, the one that accompanied him on every journey save for one.

David Silva, his dearest friend, doomed to die alone and alas forgotten, clinging onto life just as fiercely as he clings onto Villa's remnants. Just as he would cling onto Villa, jolly with happiness and dazed with love.

Silva croaks, his vocal chords having long forgotten how to function properly, a sickeningly sad smile gracing his face, "I will never let him go! Over my dead fucking body will he ever leave me."

Fernando runs a dirty hand over his eyes before rushing to meet Silva, dragging his legs along the sand as though the muscles have given up on him. The closer he gets, the more clear it becomes just how little of Silva remains in the shadow of a man that has glued itself to Villa's cold body.

All that is left of his hair, everything he hadn't pulled out in fury and sorrow, is soaked in blood and hanging as far as his ribs go. His clothes hang loose on his body, looking far more like rags than the nicely finished clothing he used to be known for obtaining. It isn't nearly enough to protect him from the unrelenting cold and all the snow that has fallen from the sky but he doesn't let it show. It is as though even now, long after death had taken Villa in her grip, his body is the only source of warmth he craves.

Fernando undresses hastily, throwing every one of his furs onto the amalgamation that is Silva and Villa's corpse. Silva looks at him with curiosity, the wave of warmth that travels through his entire body not lost on him. He huddles closer to Villa, if humanly possible, rearranging the furs so that they cover them both. Fernando feels another wave of sickness threatening to emerge from within his stomach. It all washes down when Silva looks at him with almost childish happiness, something he must have missed dearly.

"I'm going to help you, Silva. I have a place not far from here that is warm and good," Fernando whispers, the cold shivers kissing his arms, "I'll take care of you."

"I'm not going anywhere," Silva says quietly, his gaze dropping, sorrow reappearing in his dark brown eyes, "Not without him. Fernando, I can't--"

Silva clasps a hand over his mouth, for once leaving Villa's side, and bites down hard. His eyes open wide in surprise as he tries to blink it away.

"F-Fernando," he says, muffled against his hand, letting it fall off his tongue like it's the first time he's ever said it, "Fernando, your name... It's beautiful..."

Fernando comes even closer, most of his previous anxieties having escaped his body as he took notice of the saddening vulnerability that has overcome Silva. He looks at the blood that paints the edges of his teeth and he doesn't see a monster from his darkest nightmares.

He sees the way Silva's eyes still seek Villa's unmoving gaze, how he caresses his face with such gentleness Fernando hadn't imagined possible, how one of his hands never leaves the spot underneath which Villa's heart lays. He sees the affection bathed in sorrow that seeps out whenever Silva looks at the wretched body underneath his own that is still as much of his lover as it used to be.

"We'll find a way out of here and put him to rest where he belongs," Fernando whispers, his hand seeking Silva's back in what he prays comes off as a reassuring gesture. "This isn't his place to remain."

"It's quite beautiful in here actually, Fernando. Could you believe?" Silva says, a hint of a smile gracing his face, "The other day, we watched rays of a million colours dance throughout the sky. It was unlike anything I have ever seen. The sky was so green that not even the stars could compare... He looked so calm... He must have felt it..."

Fernando smiles gently, "The northern lights, David."

"Yes," Silva whispers, mind already seemingly far away from there and now, "He always did love the sky. And now he is part of it."

A fresh stream of tears falls down Silva's face and onto Villa, yet another link connecting the two. Even as Fernando's eyes wander south, where Villa is merely flesh clawed by nails and teeth alike, streaks of skin remaining alongside a great red depth, his heart doesn't miss a beat. It is so unlike how he remembers the two of them, yet so similar.

The love is still there. Undying, neither buried nor burnt, in streaks of blood and tears that bind them together just as their lips and hands used to. It's just as real only more raw and exposed as Silva leans down to leave a kiss on what remains of Villa's lips, the simple gesture bearing no less meaning than it used to. For a mere moment, it's almost as though nothing has changed...

"Let's go home, Silva," Fernando whispers, feeling as though he is interrupting something he should not be a part of.

"Home is right here," Silva spits, madness teasingly dancing in his eyes when they look at him spitefully, "I can't keep on living like this any longer, Nando. You have to understand me. How much more of this can I deal with until it eats me from the inside?"

He is the farthest thing from the Silva he knows, yet that doesn't strike him. He reaches out, tenative, desperately needing to help him, but is abruptly pushed away by a pair of hands that possess amounts of strength greater than they likely should.

The fire inside of Silva never died. Not with Villa, not ever. It's still burning inside his veins, the beautiful _roja_ that reflects in his eyes, in the way they look at Fernando.

It's home.

Fernando just wants to go home.

Silva closes his eyes as tears fall down his cheeks, his grip on Villa strengthening, "Let me die with him."

"You don't mean it, David. You wouldn't be here right now with me if you meant it."

Fernando is sure of it, yet his voice haltens as more tears threaten to fall. It isn't left unnoticed by Silva's cautious eyes nor his ears.

Silva laughs but it is hollow and doesn't meet his eyes, "God knows I've tried."

He looks down at his arms, clawed almost as badly as the sides of Villa's face and his neck, put to ruin. They are darkened with infection and so unlike what they used to be, back when they were only grazed by the odd bruise and Villa's loving caresses. He raises them for Fernando to see with much strained effort, joints cracking as they straighten. Just above his tired, dirty hands, a few precise cuts Fernando knows were caused by no fingernail. He cannot see the knife at Silva's side but knows it has always been there during their expeditions, engraved with care and love by Villa himself.

Silva whispers, exhausted and broken, his gaze with Fernando weakening, "Help me, Nando."

Fernando jolts up once he sees Silva edging to fall onto the ground. He catches him mid-way, impossibly light in his shoulders, cradling him like a mother would hold a newborn child. Silva cries in his arms, eyes shut close and for once in his lifetime not seeking Villa.

"I will," Fernando whispers, though he can hardly recognize his own voice anymore, "I will help you even if it's the last thing I will ever do. I promise."

The closest to home he has been in what seems to be months, he allows himself to believe that. He kisses the top of Silva's head and thinks of warm sunshine, clustered buildings and the farmer's market.

Home is right here, in the uneven huffs of air escaping from Silva's lips.

As they tremble together in comfortable silence, it finally dawns on him why Silva could never let go. Lost in the sea just as much as in people's hearts, Silva sought closure to the only person that resembled home. That _was_ home, perhaps.

Fernando opens his eyes reluctantly to gaze at Villa's dead body, now exposed, destroyed and utterly imperfect. For reasons he cannot explain, it's an almost comforting presence in the neverending land of snow and sorrow.

_***_

It has been notably easier with Silva around. Fernando had almost forgotten what it feels like to hold a conversation with someone, even gentle and careful as he may be with Silva. He took him under his arm without questioning, into their little bed they called home. Daniel would still bring them food but only that.

Fernando misses him. Something has changed.

Daniel doesn't look at him the way he used to, not anymore. Fernando doesn't act on it, intending on staying close to Silva to keep him safe from any harm, but it does disrupt him in his peace. He misses Daniel's lips on his own, and the feeling of falling in love burning inside his chest. The fire is dying out and there is nothing he can do about it.

"I don't like him, Fernando," Silva whispers against his side, legs tangling with Fernando's to keep warmer, "He looks at me like I disgust him."

"I like him," Fernando replies, tenative, watchful not to upset Silva, "He's a good man. He's the only one that has taken care of me here. Were it not for him, I'd probably be dead already."

Silva curls into a ball where Fernando isn't touching him, providing his body as much warmth as possible as he weeps quietly. Fernando imagines there is nothing he can do to stop it, not really.

"I tried to take care of Villa and for what?" Silva whispers, broken in a way Fernando has never seen him before, "He's still dead and I'm here. Why should I remain when he's gone?"

"Sometimes, we can't save the ones we love, and there is nothing we can do about it," Fernando tells him quietly, careful fingers brushing the side of Silva's face in reverence.

"It's not right," Silva mutters, leaning into Fernando's touch, "All he has ever done is take care of me. I couldn't even do it once."

Fernando wedges himself onto his elbow, looking down at Silva who is decidedly closing his eyes shut to avoid the closure. Fernando takes comfort in the fact that Silva doesn't will himself away whenever he touches him anymore. They've resorted to sleeping together, huddling close for the warmth both of them need, attempting to recall how they used to be before. Capturing bits of reality that are escaping them almost as quickly as warmth is.

Fernando cups Silva's cheek before telling him, "That's not true. You've done everything you could. Please, don't beat yourself up over this anymore. He needs you to stay strong. I need you to."

Silva opens his eyes reluctantly, the scarce rays of sunlight hitting his face gently. One of his hands touches Fernando's where it lays upon his face, small and trembling, yet exactly the comfort he had needed.

"Take me home, Fernando," Silva whispers, "I don't think I can stay here much longer. Everything about this place is killing me."

Fernando rearranges the furs so that they cover Silva better. There's people talking around them but he doesn't hear them, not really. His world ends right here, around Silva. The closest he shall get to home.

"Will you try to sleep a little, Silva?" Fernando asks quietly, Silva tensing up in his arms, "I'll stay with you so you're nice and warm. We're safe as long as we're together. You don't need to worry."

Silva chuckles humourlessly, grasping at Fernando's arm that's covering his waist, "You know, I always had trouble sleeping, even when he was in bed with me. You can only imagine how bad it gets now. I don't want to sleep because _he_ 's there. It feels like dying, only it's not real."

"You need to sleep, Silva. You're exhausted," Fernando urges, "What's Villa like in your dreams? Are you scared of him?"

"I'm-- what? Of course not. He's Villa," Silva says as though it's the most clear thing in the world, "He's beautiful and caring, he tells me I'm going to be okay and that he'll always visit in my sleep. He's just as I remember him."

"What _are_ you scared of, Silva?"

Silva rearranges them so that they are facing eachother, hearts beating together, a constant reminder that they are both alive. Fernando looks Silva in the eye and sees something he doesn't want to ever let go of.

"I can't speak in my dreams. I can't thank him nor tell him I love him. I can only listen," Silva whispers, a stray hand caressing Fernando's jawline, "I'm scared he's going to give up on me and leave me to die."

"You have me. We have eachother," Fernando musters a little smile in attempt to lift Silva's spirits, "We're going to be okay."

Silva doesn't smile, not truly. He snuggles closer to Fernando, not trembling, not shivering. Calm.

"Perhaps we are," he tells him.

He intends to hold onto those words, like to the last droplet of water to keep him alive.

_***_

Watching Silva die is a slow, torturous process of ups and downs, thinking that perhaps all can be well in the end until you are met with the sudden realization that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

Their common dream of returning to Spain as fabled heroes no one will sing about is becoming less believable with each passing day. Silva had been acting like a man whose supply of oxygen had been cut off ever since Villa's death, but only now does he truly come across as dead.

Silva had been petrified thinking about falling asleep all this time until now. His body gave up on caring about what he does or does not want. Silva had been sleeping all throughout the better part of the day, only waking up late into the night to cry against Fernando's shoulder until there were no more tears left to cry.

"Don't leave me, Fernando," Silva breathes against the skin on his collarbone one of those nights, "I dream of you dying in my arms. I don't want you to die."

Fernando kisses the top of Silva's head, "I'm not going anywhere. Maybe tonight, you'll dream of us going home. That wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

"I wish Villa was here," Silva whispers, a lone hand pulling on the skin on Fernando's back, "He'd know how to get us out of here. He knows this sea better than either of us do."

Fernando almost corrects Silva, silently beating himself up over it later. Villa is still just as alive in Silva's heart as he was before. Maybe Villa did keep his promises, after all.

"Someone must be worrying about us out there. Sergio funded our voyage. Surely, he must care where his money went," Fernando babbles, though he doesn't quite believe his words himself, "Where I went."

"I wrote my mother a few days before we took off. Maybe seeing me gone will finally make her forgive me for everything I've done. Perhaps someone will tell her."

Silva speaks so quietly Fernando has to close his eyes to fully focus on his voice. It's almost as though his throat lost the will to work properly anymore. Fernando's fingers run through Silva's hair the way Villa's used to, though they will never quite be the same. Fernando doesn't think about it, not as he feels the caring gesture gifting Silva immense peace that he so very lacks nowadays.

"Do you think the dead dream, Fernando?"

"I think they remember us as we were, see us as we are," Fernando tells him, "They watch over us when we need it most."

"We should bury him, Nando," Silva mutters, the tone of his voice low, as though he's holding back a sob, "It's the least he deserves. We might never be able to carry him back to Spain. He should have a place to rest. Perhaps that's why he can't hear me."

Whenever he closes his eyes, Fernando can still see the remnants of Villa's body clawed away by Silva's wrath, his desperation, his most primitive hunger and loneliness alike. He doesn't imagine that's how the dead want to go, or to be remembered. It mustn't bring Villa any peace in the afterlife to be encountered in such a state. There's nothing Silva could have done to prevent it. Fernando prays Villa remembers that detail, too.

Silva soon falls asleep in his arms, though it is the farthest thing from peaceful. He still shivers, as he always does, likely from all the nightmares he is experiencing. Fernando wishes there were a way to help him. The truth is, he can't even help himself.

Daniel walks into the room before Fernando himself had the chance to fall asleep, stopping mid-way when he sees Silva. Fernando brushes the hairs that fall into Silva's eyes before detaching from the embrace, Daniel's silent invite the one thing he needed.

They walk hand in hand someplace far away, to yet another beach and into a cave. The water is steaming hot inside, so unlike anything Fernando had come across around here.

They're still learning each other but they're quick learners. Daniel picks up the fact that Fernando doesn't enjoy his hair being pulled, Fernando doesn't touch Daniel's arms. It almost feels as though they've known each other longer than they really have.

Daniel is quick to shed him of all clothing deemed unnecessary. His hands are merciless on Fernando's body, curiously exploring as though they have never come across any treasure this precious. They caress the taut skin on his chest that is slowly losing its tan shade, blunt nails scratching against his overly sensitive skin. Fernando throws his head back as a breathy moan rises up his throat, just as Daniel sheds him of the rest of his clothing. He seats him on his furs before hastily undressing himself, kissing Fernando inbetween each piece of clothing that comes off his body. Daniel's tongue is pleasantly warm and pliant in his mouth, a stark contrast to the world around them.

Fernando sees him for what he truly is and, for just a second, he is hopelessly in love.

Deep down, he knows this is not love. This will never have the chance to grow to be love. Still, the sober realization does not stop him from latching his lips onto the side of Daniel's neck where his ink starts, a story of dots and lines for Fernando to learn with his lips only. The noises Daniel makes low down his throat as Fernando unravels him inch by inch truly are to die for. Fernando wishes he could tell him just how beautiful he is.

Daniel shudders against his lips before motioning for them to dwell into the hot water the cave offers. Fernando doesn't even think twice.

Daniel's big, thin hands roam over his entire body as they kiss. Now, under the cover of surprisingly hot water, the touches ignite sparks that go straight into the low of Fernando's abdomen. When they reach the back of his thighs, he hoists Fernando up so that his thighs press around Daniel's waist, ankles tangling behind his back. Fernando moans into the kiss as Daniel rubs against him, merely the promise of what's about to come. Fernando bites Daniel's lip, if only to watch Daniel's eyes go a shade darker with the lust that rules over him.

The pain caused by Daniel's fingers inside of him is immense. It's not nearly enough to loosen him up completely, though he tries his hardest to relax and concentrate on the steady rhythm of Daniel's heartbeat, they will never truly get to where they should. Fernando doesn't think straight, instead letting three of Daniel's long fingers breach him dry, for once in his life forcing himself to remain here, in this moment. Daniel seeks consent in Fernando's eyes before he enters him, stealing away the pained gasp that falls out of Fernando's lips with another kiss.

Fernando doesn't stop kissing him all throughout, pulling and biting at his lower lip, desperate hands clawing at the skin on his back. Once Daniel is inside of him to the hilt, Fernando pulls away to nod vigorously, unabashed tears falling down his face. When Daniel doesn't move, he captures his face in his hands before looking him in the eye, straight into the depths of his soul.

"Please," Fernando whispers, broken in the dark night, just the thing needed to truly unravel Daniel.

Though it hurts, it's the best kind of pain there is. Fernando cries openly just as passionately as he thrusts back against Daniel to the best of his ability. Daniel has resorted to kissing at the low of his throat, sucking on his Adam's apple, Fernando's head thrown back in sheer, intense pleasure. It's painful, it's irrational, it's raw. It also happens to be just what Fernando desired, though it might have been difficult to admit.

How can he blame Daniel for any pain he has endured when all of this is his fault in the first place?

The tears stop when Fernando feels himself edging closer and closer to release. His hands find the low of Daniel's back in a possessive hold as Fernando lands an open mouthed kiss on top of Daniel's lips. He can taste blood on his tongue, though he cannot be sure whose.

"I love you," he whispers against Daniel's bloodied lips, foreheads pressed together.

One of Daniel's hands caresses the side of his face, his thrusts halting but not slowing, before he repeats, "I love you."

Fernando comes with a high pitched moan before he can stop himself from doing so. Though it's far from how Spanish is supposed to sound, the meaning of the words is not lost on Fernando. He rides Daniel with all he's got, breathy, inaudible nothings falling out of his lips as Daniel comes inside of him.

The air stills around them. Fernando feels fresh tears falling down his face, this time from sheer happiness. Daniel kisses them all away with utmost patience.

Fernando wishes they could stay like this forever.

Only, nothing is forever.

_***_

Daniel feels like an unwelcome intruder in Fernando and Silva's lives. A voyeur, witnessing a life that will never be his.

It's selfish thinking that keeps him going, the kind he always eventually regrets. He doesn't have it in him to move or do anything when he sees Silva sleeping at Fernando's side, his face hidden away in the crook of Fernando's neck, trembling against his body. Fernando runs gentle hands through his hair and down his back to soothe him to sleep, though it doesn't appear to be working. His fingers graze over Silva's forehead in reverie, a troubled frown on his face.

He slips out of their room just as quietly as he appeared, heavy footsteps leading Jannik's way. His heart aches with a forgotten feeling of needing to take care of someone, not just the ones you love, but all people, even those most foreign to us.

Jannik sits on the floor, two of his daughters sleeping in his lap. He braids their hair as they wander off somewhere far from his reach.

"I need your help," Daniel says quietly not to disrupt them, Jannik's tired eyes finding his face, "It's Silva. He's running a fever."

"So is Kari," Jannik whispers, beckoning Daniel to come closer, "Sylvi insists on staying close to her to help her heal. It's infuriating, really, but there's nothing I can do to stop her. She's just like Viktor. You can never tell them lot what to do."

An unpleasant shiver runs down Daniel's spine at the very mention of Viktor, all of his most vivid nightmares coming back to him in waves. He brushes them away before they take yet another piece of him he will never regain.

"I need herbs, Jannik. Hvönn, preferably. Something to kill the fever with."

Jannik smiles sadly, "You know I can't give them to you. It's best we rid of him sooner than later. He's only a nuisance, a danger to us all, another mouth to feed."

Daniel snaps, "He didn't choose to be here. He didn't want to fall sick. None of this is his fault."

Jannik's hands run up to rub at his eyes, "Perhaps not. Still, I'm not going to change my mind. This isn't his place to be. I'm not going to waste good medicine on a man that could kill me in my sleep."

"Silva isn't going to kill anyone," Daniel's voice goes higher, quickly silenced by Jannik's glare, "If not for him, do it for me."

"I'm sorry, Daniel," Jannik says slowly, "You're on your own."

Daniel has tens of remarks in his head he could voice to appease Jannik but none of them ever come to be.

"If you really care for the other boy, keep him away from the sickly one," Jannik instructs him, eyes boring into his own, "He might survive a little longer. I see the way you look at him."

Daniel imagines having to force Fernando to seperate himself from Silva and leave him to die, forgotten and alone. The thought alone makes him sick in the stomach.

He exists the house without looking back once, slamming the door shut behind him.

He seeks Fernando instead to take him into the night and seek the remedy for Silva's condition themselves. Fernando kisses Silva's cheek, lingering a touch longer than usual before making sure he is tucked well underneath all the furs.

Daniel is a fool for falling in love with him, perhaps, but a proud one. He sees an example of a good, honest man in Fernando, the kind of man he himself aspires to be. If this is love, then never let it end.

They walk along the shore in search of the one herb that could possibly help cure Silva of his fever as well as Fernando, of the anxiety burning inside his heart. Daniel knows the herb grows close to a supply of running water, in shadowy conditions, hidden away from the human eye. It helps that he knows what he's looking for, though, narrowing the search to only a few plants.

Fernando's hand is in his all throughout, a silent reminder that this _thing_ between them is real. It's not love as he imagined it growing up but it's soothing in its simplicity nonetheless.

They find themselves in that same cave that carries memories of their sweat in the air. The aura is almost comforting, helping Daniel in his search for the herb. Fernando points to some from time to time, eyebrow raised, silently asking if this is the right one. Though it takes them longer than anticipated, he comes across it in the end. He rips it out from root to the tips of the petals. Fernando is looking at him with more adoration than anyone had ever done before.

Daniel faces him, caresses the side of his face before kissing him gently. The previous roughness and adrenaline connected with this place is all forgotten, overcome by a sudden need for closeness. Fernando's lips on his truly are a thing of magic. He falls apart underneath them, hands caressing Fernando's temples.

"I love you," Fernando whispers against his lips. If only for a brief second, Daniel has no doubts they are going to overcome every obstacle and be okay in the end.

Seconds pass, and so do hopes, even those most heartfelt.

Fernando is willed away from his side by a pair of glistening arms coming from the depths of the water. It's just as it was before, only, this time, Daniel is holding Fernando's hand as he is forcefully taken away from him. It soon slips away from his hold, his last means of defence gone and destroyed, Fernando out of his reach. The creature holding him in a tight grasp restricts him from any sort of movement, Fernando pliant in its hold.

Daniel never forgot those piercing blue eyes, not for a single moment.

To the monster's side, he sees Viktor just as he remembers him, only malnourished and cold, devoid of the smile he always used to adorn. The creature holds a chain that connects it to Viktor, depriving him as a person and disabling from running away.

"Leave him alone!" Daniel screams, the creature's hands clutched tightly around Fernando's throat, "He's got nothing to do with you!"

"Me and Viktor don't enjoy being alone, do we?" he asks with a sickening smirk on his face, motioning to the shadow of Daniel's first, most genuine friend, "It gets tiring after a while. Viktor is incredible but I'm known to be quite hard to please."

"Give up, Daniel," the sheer, ghastly Viktor tells him weakly, shackles thrown around his whole body, "There's no use in fighting Simon. You can only obey."

The creature _\-- Simon --_ pulls Viktor into a languid kiss, the edges of his nails drawing blood from Viktor's chin, "He's a slow learner, but he learned. This one's going to be easier."

Fernando's eyes still seek Daniel's even as he struggles to breathe, his body going limp in Simon's hold. Daniel is paralysed.

"Don't do this to him," Daniel whispers, loud enough to ensure Simon hears him, "He should have never come here. Just let him go."

"That's exactly what I intend to do," Simon snarls, loosening his hold on Fernando's throat. Fernando takes uneven, greedy huffs of air as his eyes fill with unshed tears. "His soul will be free to go wherever it wishes. His body though..."

One of Simon's rock solid nails punctures through Fernando's throat, enabling a stream of blood to come loose. The scream catches in Fernando's throat, never to be heard. Alas, Fernando's spark dies.

"His body is mine," Simon grunts, the tone of his voice punching at Daniel's sides, "You're next."

Daniel drops to his knees and screams but they are already below the surface of water, someplace deep in the sea never to be found. He will never see his face again.

Is this fate punishing him for all that is bad in this world? _Why him?_

Fate is an unjust master of life, ruling above everything in a chaotic attempt to weigh the good and the evil. She does as she wishes, not caring about those foolish mortals that suffer from her recklessness.

Only now does Daniel realize he is not dealing with a selkie but something much more dangerous. There are tales far more grave than the ones of seal people who fal in love with humans. It's stories of women and men alike kidnapped underneath the sea's surface to be raped, enslaved and alas murdered. He'd cry whenever his father would tell him about those horrible finfolk that know no mercy, only the animalistic desires of their hearts.

His tears maim his furs that carry Fernando's unique scent. He doesn't close his eyes, doesn't want to be met with the image of Viktor, pale and ruined, or of Fernando being silenced until the end of all days.

No one will hear him cry in this desolate cave. He clutches the herb in his hand weakly.

He treats Silva's fever in silence, neither of them asking any questions, Silva still unaware of the tragedy he will soon encounter. He slips away from Silva's grateful hold on the sleeve of his coat as though that touch alone burns him worse than any fire could. The guilt eats him from the inside. He wishes he could comfort Silva but, truthfully, he can't even bring himself to look at him.

Mourning in silence still hurts just the same. That night, Daniel prays for the first time in years. He begs the Gods to grant Fernando a safe passage back home, to the land of the people that love and miss him where he belongs. He promptly ignores the passion with which he misses Fernando for all he was, for all he allowed Daniel to know and love.

He falls asleep to Jannik's side, silently crying against his chest. Jannik doesn't ask any questions. It's clear enough.

His body sleeps but his mind doesn't, forever creating scenarios of all the _what if_ s that could have prevented Fernando from reaching the bitter end long before his time.

In all of those, Silva, crying under the moonlit sky.

_***_

Fernando hasn't been back for three days. It's the most alone Silva has felt in all the years of his life, as though there was nothing in this world that could possibly make this life worth living.

Fernando was the force that kept Silva together. Now, without him, Silva's butchered soul dances and runs in the air while his body stubbornly keeps on living. This is hardly a life worth living, merely some higher force's punishment on Silva for his, their, everyone's sins.

Silva doesn't wish to atone. He only prays for the pain to end, for the gap in his chest to fill with something akin to hope, for sleep to take him forever.

Silva hasn't stopped crying, screaming, panicking. He doesn't eat anymore, only scarce herbs that never hurt no one, as everyone is terrified to come close to him. The feeling of being left alone still hasn't left his heart and now, only intensified, it eats him alive. He hasn't stopped searching for Fernando but, deep down, he feels as though it is all for naught. Silva stops to sit and wonder how come he is even still alive. He laughs, the sound hollow and devoid of any emotion save for the sadness that drenches from it.

"It should have been me," he whispers, disbelief dancing in his eyes alongside a spark of madness he thought he had evaded, "By what right did they have to be punished while I still live?"

His voice echoes in the wind but there is not a soul to answer him.

Only footsteps, carefully placed quiet footsteps that only come closer. Silva looks up and he sees _him_. The sight alone forges something in him, something that has been long buried and should have never been found again.

Vengeance.

He throws himself at the man, Daniel, nails clawing at his skin. Daniel falls back easily, putting up only the slightest fight, but Silva is not a man known to take mercy on those who have hurt him or the ones he loves. He lands a punch on his cheek and his knuckles feel like they are on fire. He watches blood seep out of Daniel's brow bone with a shameful sense of pride. Silva pushes him onto his back, an audible crack reverberating in the air, before spitting in his face.

"You killed him!" Silva yells to his face, broken, tears falling down his cheeks and into Daniel's eyes, "He loved you and you murdered him! I always knew I was right not to trust you. You're just a fucking traitor!"

Daniel stares at him with wide open eyes, pathetic arms attempting to free themselves of Silva's clutch. Were this any other time, Silva would feel sorry for him.

Not this time.

"He loved you even though he hated every second spent here. You were the worst and best thing that has ever happened to him." Silva continues, fully aware that Daniel does not understand him.

He does understand the edge of a knife at his throat though.

"Why did you do it?!" Silva screams, pressing the blade deeper against where Daniel's pulse goes crazy, "Why?!"

Daniel is crying now, too, small tremors that run through his whole body. Silva holds him down with all his force, pressing him into the dirty soil that will never forget the smell of him. All of his muscles tense up where they stand, disabling Daniel from a possible escape route. Daniel's arms are spread wide open over his head, truly like a prey that has been caught against its will.

Silva whispers, "Why did you save me?"

Just silence.

"Fernando," Daniel breathes, voice shaking and gentler than Silva imagined it would be, "Fernando..."

It's all he says, all he can say, all that ignites a fire in the low of Silva's stomach that cannot be put down. Silva breaks down in a powerful sob, abandoning the knife, instead latching his hands onto Daniel's neck. He watches Daniel's eyes open and his body shake weakly.

"You won't speak his name," Silva cries, his own hands trembling around Daniel's neck, pressing harder, harder, "Ever again."

Silva cries for Villa, for Fernando, for Daniel, perhaps even for himself. His body sags against Daniel's once he stops struggling and alas does not move. There's something familiar about this which causes Silva's stomach to turn in disgust.

"What have I done..." he whispers against the man he hardly even knew, the man he killed in cold blood with his own hands.

Silva's not a murderer. He only wants to go home.

He wants Fernando's lips on the top of his head, his reassuring voice telling him they are going to be okay, his strong legs tangled with his.

He wants Villa to forgive him, to kiss him goodnight when he needs it most, to be there with him through the worst day of his life. He wants to be loved and to love in return.

Silva doesn't want to die like this.

Somewhere from afar, there stands a screaming child, no older than he when he had first encountered Villa. An array of flowers drops from her hands as she lets out a scream so painful Silva cannot stand it.

He runs away from the dead body, the traumatic memories too vivid all at once. He knows the little girl has probably ran to cradle Daniel, the cold body she will never hear speaking again.

He wonders if anyone will come looking for him. The chances are scarce.

He breaks down crying on the edge of some cliff, his tears mixing with saline waters of the sea below him. In that moment alone, he feels as though he had lost himself entirely, is only a withered shell of a body that holds a long dead soul. His fists beat pathetically against the damp soil, just to feel something, anything other than the pain. The sky is painted in thousands of different colours but he doesn't see it.

Then, a hand on the back of his neck. He almost screams.

He doesn't, but only because the touch is unreasonably familiar, reminiscent of the days that have passed and of the person he used to be. Silva doesn't have to look up to know this touch by heart.

"What are you doing, Villa," he whispers, the question slipping off his tongue like a statement, "You should be dead."

A ghastly chuckle reverberates through Silva's ears, just like the old days, just like when life was good. Silva's head aches with all the memories he has ceased to remember that are coming back with the force of the most terrible storm. They are all soothed by the steady weight of Villa's hand on the back of his neck.

"As should you," Villa laughs. Silva realizes he hasn't heard anybody laughing for months, so long he forgot how to do it himself. For Villa, it is the most natural thing in the world, even in death.

"What good has any of this done me?" he asks quietly, only then looking up to see the shadow of Villa looking back at him, just as real as he ever was, "I'm just as dead as you are, only holding onto this life like it bears any importance. I should have died with you on that beach. None of this should have ever happened."

"Perhaps not," Villa answers just as quietly, hand moving to wipe away the tears that paint Silva's face, "But who are we to decide that?"

"I'm so sorry, Villa," Silva whispers, swallowing the unease in his throat that is disabling him from speaking, "I'm sorry I let you down. I should have never left you. I should have done something to save you."

One ot Villa's hands clutches Silva's own in a weak hold, "There was nothing to be saved. I was long gone before we had even reached the shore. I left you, yet you didn't give up on me."

"Why do you not hate me, Villa?"

Both of Villa's hands cup Silva's face when new tears start falling, fingers brushing at the cold skin. Silva cries because he had never thought he'd get to experience this ever again, not even in his most feverish dreams.

"I love you, guaje," Villa tells him, a gentle smile on his face. Though the endearment sounds wrong falling out of his lips and not Silva's, it causes the smallest of smiles to grace his face, "Nothing could ever change that."

He gazes upon Villa's soul and body that dance with the myriad of colours painting the black sky. It causes a fresh set of tears to dwell against his eyes, one he brushes away quickly, careful not to miss a second of the beautiful sight before him. It is even more alluring than the one he had seen that one night on the beach. Villa is with him, and that alone makes all the difference. Maimed, torn, wronged, but still his Villa nonetheless.

"Take me home, Villa," he begs, his knees digging into the damp soil, "I don't think I can go on any longer. Not alone."

Villa's hand, a cold shadow of what used to be, caresses the side of his face. Silva feels himself crying though no tears come. He looks into Villa's grey eyes and sees the man he had loved all his life, the only one he would give up his life for.

"I know," he tells him, voice an octave different from how Silva remembers it, but just as loving, just as gentle, "I'm here now, Silva. We're going home."

Silva kisses Villa goodbye, the last chance he will ever get in this life. His pulse beats ten times as fiercely inside his veins, knowing this is the last time he will ever need it to. Silva hopes Villa's cold, distant hands feels as much of Silva's warmth as there is left in his body. He smiles against Villa's lips when they break apart, eager to see where Villa takes him on another one of their adventures.

"I'm ready," he tells him, looking back one last time at this mysterious place that perhaps should have never been discovered.

Villa holds his hand as he steps off the edge of the cliff, jumping into the dark abyss of the sea. He's with him when he fights for the last time, when air stops reaching his lungs, when his life ends.

Alas, they shall be together in death, as they always had been in life. Silva will never witness another sun setting over the vast horizon that seems to have no end. Only this one, only his own. Only for him.

Dawn will never rise. Not for him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> After about ten different ways this fic turned out in my head, a hundred different ideas for all the characters, three days of non-stop writing to finish everything, here we are. I did it. You did it. Good job to us both.
> 
> I'd like everyone to know this has been a very long time in the making. The original idea dates back to August 1st 2018, when I was still in Denmark, discovering everything Norse and falling in love with it. Right here, I'd like to thank my good friend Aviana, without whom I would have never finished this fic. It's just as much for you as it is for Maria. Maria, for whom I've wanted to gift this fic ever since I started writing it. The gift exchange was merely an excuse for me to actually write most of it.
> 
> The area I was trying to describe is what we know today as the Faroe Islands, a country dependant to the crown of Denmark. It was heavily inspired by the artist Eivør and her beautiful songs, especially Norðurljós (the northern lights scene!!!). My initial fascination with her music, especially the songs sung in Faroese, was what ignited this idea and made it happen. The story doesn't have a set date; however, in my head, it was all happening around the year 1000, since that's when the native inhabitants of the Faroes still were at large. Fernando and his little company were just a bunch of men with a common thirst for adventure, not colonizing the world under the Spanish banner (which couldn't even have been possible at the time, really).
> 
> The fic mentions a lot of Nordic mythological creatures, many of whom I've altered a little for the purpose of storytelling. Selkies, also known as seal people, are the ones that, during a specific number of nights, shed their seal skin to walk among humans like one of them. The romanticization of selkies in the recent years has been really common. They are most often harmful. However, the finfolk, or finmen, which Daniel mentions at the end, are the exact opposite. Disgusting to the human eye, the most skilled sailors with inhuman swimming speed, they kidnap women and men alike for their own sick enjoyment. To rape them, enslave them or murder them, like I already mentioned using Daniel's POV.
> 
> The scene in which Silva can be seen towering over Villa's body, drenched in blood and dirt, originally used to be even more graphic than it is now. However, upon extensive research on decaying corpses and how long blood stays fresh in the human body after the heart stops beating, I couldn't make it as bloody as I wanted to. Fuck science.
> 
> Also, if it's not clear enough, all the dialouge between Silva, Villa and Fernando is in Spanish, and all the dialouge between the local folk is in Old Norse. It just happens so that today's knowledge about that language isn't as specific as I'd like it to, hence why the herb's name is used in Icelandic. It maybe seems more logical to use Danish, since the Faroe Islands are a Danish territory, but the Faroese language derives a lot more from Icelandic. As a fun fact, I installed an Icelandic keyboard on my phone and used it a total of maybe five times. It's the thought that counts. (Verð Mín? Thanks, keyboard.)
> 
> I think that just about covers it, maybe? If there's any more questions I will be delighted to answer them - yes!! this time I will actually answer the comments. If you made it this far into the notes, know that I love and appreciate you.
> 
> Late thanks to my friend Milla, who patiently listened to all my complaining throughout the last three days. And again to Aviana who has waited for this goddamn fic ever since August 1st, my actual biggest fan. I love you both so much.
> 
> ALL kudos and comments are so, so appreciated! Thank you to everyone that read my fics in 2018. It truly has been a magnificent year for me, fic-wise and altogether. I'm glad you guys could have been a part of it.


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